How I Met the Z Boys
by green.pepsi.cola
Summary: Calypso comes home one afternoon to find a wounded but proud and stubborn z boy sitting dazedly in her empty pool. Short story, no actual plot, filler for other stories on break.


(a/n: Just filler to occupy you as my other lodt stories are on a creative hold, so don't expect much

(A/n: Just filler to occupy you as my other lodt stories are on a creative hold, so don't expect much. It may never be finished. Just a muse…)

Disc.: Only Calypso Djimon belongs to me and nothing else.

**How I Met the Z-Boys**

I just got off working the long shift at Treasure Trove Garage (Why it's called that I have no idea it's just my job) as I climbed into my aquamarine '68 Camero, placing the keys in the ignition and not bothering to fix my button down work shirt, which had ridden up on the sides, or the logo cap falling sloppily off my head as it had been jammed over my brown ponytail, or the smudges of car oil randomly decorating my face and arms. My hair. Well let's just say it's about as brown as a puddle of mud. My eyes scanned the road as I reached for the radio. Immediately as I turned onto Venice Boulevard 'Dancing In the Streets' blasted through the speakers. A very uneventful drive home ensued.

I'm not gonna lie, when I got home and flopped down on my couch in my little rundown white house I did not expect to see a long-haired blonde somebody sitting dazedly smack in the middle of my pool, facing away from the door with a broken blue skateboard about 5 feet away. I was mildly surprised, sure I let the little kids in the neighborhood swim in the pool when it was filled but now it was empty and this made no sense. He – or she – I couldn't really tell from the back - was holding his/her shoulder as if in pain. Me being the sweet-natured person I am whom just happened to take a first-aid class at the Y despite being completely wiped out from working my tan little Spanish-Venezuelan arse off, I stood up to go and see what was up – er, down.

"Can I be of assistance?" I asked cautiously like the store clerks do in the movies, unaware of said person's mental state at the moment. What else was I supposed to do, leave the little rat out there and get a lawsuit slapped in my face? It was a guy who turned to look at me. My inquiring, concerned baby blues met his intense greenish-grays. Those eyes. Lord, to this day I swear they looked right through me, piercing my soul with their burning imprint. I now know what it feels like to be read like a book, classified, and placed on a shelf. Only this shelf wasn't comprised of wood, it was comprised of social status. Sure, my house wasn't exactly the epitome of clean, it was quite messy if I do say so myself. But it wasn't a total dump. I mean, I could afford the pool he was sitting in couldn't I? "I don't need any help." His voice was sullen and determined. I could tell I was working with a tough, stubborn, slightly egotistical kid. "Sure you don't. You'll just pop your shoulder into place all by yourself. Easy as pie, huh. I bet. I gotta med certificate, if you change your mind. Why doncha come in an' we'll see what we can do for ya." I smoothed the front of my work shirt subconsciously. "I said I don't need any help, girl." He was going to act tough, this one. "Excuse me, but I believe I'm a bit older than you… no need to call me girl. Well suit yourself, _boy._" If he was going to be that way, so was I. I went back through the sliding door, leaving the screen open and snickering as he attempted to fix his shoulder, popped out of the socket, but only succeeding in hurting himself further. "Change ya mind, I'll just be inside." My last ditch attempt. I wasn't about to push the kid any further. I went to get the first-aid kit, just incase he decided to stop being so stubborn. I knew he had a bruised lip, cuts on his forehead and cheek, and a scrape that oddly enough resembled nail patterns on his arm. Oh yeah, and then there was the case of that slightly downed ego. I proceeded to the kitchen, grabbing two beers from the fridge. I set one on the coffee table, making sure it clinked on the glass. My instincts told me the beer might tempt him, coaxing him in by mocking silently from the table in plain view as I headed toward my bedroom to change.

I emerged from my bedroom 20 minutes later, only to find the kid sitting on my couch still nursing his shoulder but occasionally drinking from the half full bottle clutched in his opposite hand. "How'd a little grommet like you end up in my pool – my empty pool – in the first place?" Being twenty-five, I pretty much had the mindset and wardrobe of a teenager. Take my outfit for example. It was a belly baring green military top, the kind that buttons down and ties at the bottom with cuffed short-sleeves, extremely flared light blue jeans, my black Treasure Trove baseball hat, and a couple wooden-and-macramé bangles paired with my dark blue converse. You see what I mean? I even french-braided my waist length hair in pigtails still, like a little kid. I didn't even expect him to answer, so I jumped a bit when he actually did. "Skip kicked us out of Zephyr early and your pool was closest." It was simple, but at least I got him talking. "You skate for him? I haven't been into Zephyr in ages…." I was hoping to distract him for a moment. "Yeah it's wicked – ahhhh! Damn, couldn't you have warned me?!" He practically screamed as I took a firm hold on his shoulder and popped it effortlessly back into place. "Nah ya wouldn't have let me fix it and it woulda hurt a hell of a lot worse. I swear, it would have!" I defended as he glowered at me. "What, did you get attacked by a cat or something?" I asked, looking from his forehead to his cheek and finally at the scratch marks on his arm. "Or something…" He answered vaguely. I waved the bottle of peroxide in his face. "If I give you another beer and let you skate my pool whenever will you let me help you with those?" I asked hopefully, perching on the arm of the couch with some gauze in my hand. I had no idea what I was getting into. "We – I mean I – could skate your pool _any time _if I let you help me?" See? How did I know he was going to want something in return? I hate to say I told you so but… I TOLD YOU SO!

--

Unfortunately for me, he did show up again, the very next day. And it wasn't just him. He brought friends. _Lots _of friends. I woke up at 9:30 on Saturday, my day off, to the sound of screaming and someone impatiently pounding on my door. I recently learned that it is never a good idea to answer your front door in your pajamas. Don't ask me how. Anyway, I shimmied into a pair of black plaid lounge pants and put my hair up in a messy bun, wrapping my sweatshirt around my frame before going to the door. It was still cool out, the sun hadn't quite warmed up all the way yet, and I was met by a blast of cool breeze as I opened the heavy oak front door.

My eyes just about popped out of my head. Jay (as I found out his name was) stood on my front porch with a skateboard behind his back. A bunch of kids were milling around in the street and on my front lawn, some skateboarding, others not. "Good morning Calypso, and don't you look lovely this fine Saturday?" He greeted. I gave him an incredulous look before closing the door in his face. I glanced in the hall mirror. My hair looked like I just stepped out of a hurricane, my shirt and pants were three sizes too big, and I had trails of mascara and eyeliner running randomly down my face from lack of energy the night before. I still had oil smudged on my nose. He was pounding on the door again. I paused a few seconds before opening it. "What was that you were saying, Jay?" I asked, like that didn't just happen. "Came over to skate. Brought some friends. You said we could skate whenever, right?" I was awestruck. I just told him he could yesterday and he shows up the very next day with the entire neighborhood? I sighed. "Fine, fine. But if the cops show up I'm not hiding all of you. AND I want introductions. No lawsuits, neither. You're under verbal contract, Jay Adams." I snapped, opening the door wider.

Ten minutes later I had been introduced to every single person he had brought. Let's see… there were too many to count. Stacy, long blond hair, blue eyes, tall, medium build… Tony, curly brown hair with blond overlay, brown eyes, short build, muscular, his girlfriend Blanca, (she looked like she wanted to kill me until I assured her that I was 25 and had no interest whatsoever in the Tony kid) average, long brown hair, honey tinged eyes, Tony's sister Kathy, best friend to Blanca, cute, once again long brown hair with blonde streaks, also average, Shogo, normal height, long black hair, Asian, dark eyes, Peggy, the first girl who actually skated, kinda short, dark brown hair and eyes, Asian as well, Red Dog aka Jim, curly reddish-blond hair, blue eyes, tallish, Biniak, (acted all macho and twitchy around me) once again blond, gray eyes, on the short side, Wentzle, short, looked substantially younger than everyone else, like 14 or something, yet another bleach blond haired, brown eyed kid, and last but not least, Sid, introduced as 'Baby Sid', grungy shoulder length brown hair, brown eyes, medium height, klutzy, (almost knocked over my vase, tripped over own feet…) and then there were a few little tagalong kids and two blonde bimbo-ish groupies Jay dragged in at the last minute.

After the longest introduction of my lifetime, I was finally confident that no one would be smashing their heads in and they could handle themselves for at least half an hour so I could shower and get dressed. "No raiding my fridge, Jay. And the minute one of you kids hurt yourselves you're outta here." I warned before I changed. I wasn't even going to bother today, it was too early. I grabbed the first things I saw from my closet, which ended up being a black t-shirt advertising for some kind of surfboard wax, ripped, faded old jeans, and a dark blue bandana wrapped around my head to camouflage my horrible shower hair. I didn't even fuss with shoes. All I bothered with make-up wise was the basic mascara and black eyeliner.

Stepping through my back door my eyes were met by what strongly resembled a disaster area. There were people everywhere, people who hadn't been there in the first place, screaming and skating, chasing each other, some guy with a camera… Blanca and Kathy were sitting with the blonde groupies and another dark haired chick. I was forced to break up a squabble between Biniak and Jay, who had collided in the pool. "Break it up or get out." I threatened, pointing to the front of my house. Both of them shut up and went their separate ways. Some kid I hadn't recalled meeting began circling me slowly. "Unless you're a hawk or a stalker, I suggest you stop that." I told him, crossing my arms. The kid stopped in front of me, standing way too close for comfort. "You're pretty hot. What's a hot mama like you doing around here anyway?" He asked. I really did not appreciate this 15 year old kid harassing me right now. "I live here, and I'm 25, so don't even think of trying anything on me cuz I will knock you flat. Now I'm not a babysitter, so if you're not going to skate or even watch everyone else skate, you need to leave, little man." The kid was scowling at me as if I'd slapped him, but eventually went to sit by the pool pouting like a two year old. I sat in one of my lounge chairs with my legs crossed, sketchbook in my lap. "Ay chica you got any beer or tunes?" The Tony kid appeared out of nowhere. "Boy what do you think I am, a tiki bar? Beer no, tunes yes." I disappeared into the house and turned on my stereo to a random radio station blasting Santana before returning to my position in the chair. Eventually the crowd thinned down to only the people I'd been introduced to.

That summer when the team (and Kathy and Blanca) wasn't surfing, skating or bumming around at Zephyr, they spent most of it at my house. I went to all their competitions. I started talking to Skip, and we visited sometimes. We talked a bit, partied a bit, surfed a bit… And to think all of this started when Jay Adams stumbled upon my pool and knocked his shoulder out of the socket after getting in a fight.


End file.
